


still learning

by bisexualoftheblade



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne-centric, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Worth Issues, Song Lyrics, hurt/comfort heavy on the hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualoftheblade/pseuds/bisexualoftheblade
Summary: It is Damian Wayne's 18th birthday, and as he crosses into adulthood he wonders if his childhood will haunt him for the rest of his days.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 35
Kudos: 113





	still learning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wisdom_walks_alone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdom_walks_alone/gifts).



> Thanks to Crystalinastar, Queerbutstillhere, battoad, ThatHydrokinetic, and peterpiperparker for betaing!

_ I should be living the dream _

_ But I'm living with a security team _

_ And that ain't gonna change _

The streets of Gotham were colder than Damian had thought they would be. Then again, he hadn’t had a lot of expectations as to what Gotham would be like, just that his family would be there. Family is a strange word. Back in the League, it meant a bloodline. There was a strict hierarchy to follow, and you rose in the ranks through blood and violence. That wasn’t the case here; Damian had learned that the hard way.

And now his every move was scrutinized by those he was supposed to call family. 

Then again, that wasn’t anything new, he was used to his grandfather and mother judging him, but he had thought the Waynes were supposed to be better than that.

_ And you wouldn't believe _

_ Everything that I've seen, no _

_ Coming apart at the seams _

Swords cut through flesh easier than Damian thought they would. He knew it was supposed to be easy, he had trained for this for his entire life, but he almost wished killing someone was harder.

But then he saw his Mother smile. 

He was asked to kill more from then on, with hit lists coming in daily. 

He can’t seem to wash off all the blood, it stains his clothes, his skin, his sheets, his mind. All he wants is for the blood to go away.

That’s how the panic attacks start, with violent scrubbing at stained hands. (It will take years for him to see paint staining his hands instead and not insist on violently scrubbing it away.)

_ And no one around me knows _

_ Who I am, what I'm on _

_ Who I've hurt and where they've gone _

He was supposed to be a leader, a hero. So why did he still spend every night scrubbing at the phantom of blood on his hands?

He wasn’t the leader his mother and grandfather had raised him to be, he had left the League behind years ago. Instead he led teams of heroes and pretended that he was one of them. But he knew he was just an imposter who covered his hands in red paint to hide the blood staining them.

_ I know that I've done some wrong _

_ But I'm trying to make it right _

_ Did the one I love do me wrong? _

Damian wakes up on his eighteenth birthday to hear his phone ringing and sees Talia’s name flash across the screen. Damian panics for a brief moment, then glances down at Jon peacefully sleeping next to him and realizes she can’t hurt him anymore. 

“Hello, Damian, it has been quite a while since I’ve heard from you.” Talia’s voice sounds the same as it always has, like a gently flowing river hiding sharp rocks just beneath the surface.

Damian suppresses a groan, wondering why she had to call today of all days. “Hello mother, what do you want?”

“Is it enough to simply wish my son a happy birthday?”

Damian rolls his eyes. He knows Talia wants something, the question is just what it is she wants. “Talia please don’t bother pretending you care about me, we both know it isn’t true. Just tell me what you want so I can say no and we can both move on with our lives.”

“Fine,” Talia’s voice has turned sharp and cold, like the depths of the ocean. “I need you to kill someone for me, he’s a threat to the League, and your duty is to us, not that fool of an alien or Bruce’s spawn.”

“No, I don’t think I will. Have a good day mother, I know I will.” Damian hangs up the phone with a satisfying click and rolls back over to see Jon’s eyes blinking open. “Go back to sleep beloved, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Jon mumbles softly, but extends his arm to allow Damian to tuck beneath it, and the two of them fall back asleep, safe and together without a care in the world.

_ I know that I love you but I'm still learning _

_ To love myself  _

“I love you Damian.” Jon’s voice is soft but strong, like the beating of the wings of a thousand butterflies lifting him up. 

Damian freezes, unsure how to respond. 

Jon continues on despite Damian’s silence, “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way yet, and you can just ignore me, but I wanted to tell you that.”

“Why?” Damian blurts out. “Why do you love me? I’m a killer.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t care?”

“I love you Damian, every part. I love you when your hands are stained with blood and when they are stained with paint. I love you when you are breaking down and when you are building me up. I love you when you are fighting a war and when you are loving your family. You are my friend, my partner, and my boyfriend. I love you Damian Wayne.”

Damian pauses for a long time and rubs his hands, scared that he will get hurt again. But in the end, he decides that the hurt is worth it, at least for Jon. “I love you too Jon, no matter what.”

_ I should be living the dream _

_ But I go home and I got no self-esteem _

“I’m proud of you, son.” Bruce’s voice echoes throughout the cave, deep and calming. It’s the voice he uses to calm scared children. 

Damian wishes he wasn’t treated like a fragile piece of glass, just a weapon seconds away from being triggered. He doesn’t care, he just walks away to take a shower. He wishes the Robin uniform were darker, it would make it harder to see the blood stains.

Maybe the blood stains are why he is still watched, still seen as a weapon. It doesn’t matter, he’ll just keep scrubbing away, waiting for his own blood to replace the blood of others. It doesn’t matter, nothing does.

_ The same mistakes on and on _

_ To all my friends I'm sorry for _

_ They know that I love you _

_ But I'm still learning to love myself _

Damian is having a panic attack. It is his birthday and he is having a panic attack. He didn’t  _ mean _ to, but Tim had suggested an in person version of Among Us where the impostor has to cover their hands in paint and touch crewmates to “kill” them.

And Damian was chosen to be the impostor.

Damian is the impostor.

Damian is the impostor and his hands are covered in blood and they want him to kill again.

Damian is the impostor and they want him to kill and he can’t breathe and the walls are closing in and his hands are covered in blood and there isn’t anywhere for him to clean them and everyone is looking at him and he can’t breathe and so he runs.

He runs. He runs until there is nowhere else to run to, and then he breaks down in sobs and rubs at his hands until they burn.

_ I know that I've done some wrong _

_ But I'm trying to make it right _

Damian looks at those surrounding him, his friends, his family, and he knows they love him, even with his past. He jokes around and gets to rough-house without fearing he will hurt someone. He eats cake, pets his animals, and listens to his loved ones wish him happy birthday. 

At the end of the night, he goes back to his apartment with Jon. And laying there next to his lover, he realizes for the first time in a long time that he finally feels clean. And so Damian Wayne, newly an adult, goes to sleep with paint-covered hands and knows that he is loved, no matter what.


End file.
